“Don’t be such a dreamer,” says Bob (Esai Morales) to his younger brother, to which soon-to-be teen star Ritchie Valens (Lou Diamond Phillips), né Richard Valenzuela, quickly retorts, “My dreams are pure rock ‘n’ roll.” It’s the kind of blunt, overearnest exchange found in countless music-based biopics, but it also exemplifies La Bamba’s penchant for the cartoonishly archetypal. Indeed, everyone surrounding Ritchie is stripped of both nuance and agency as their roles in the film rarely extend beyond fueling or antagonizing the future icon.
Ritchie’s girlfriend, Donna (Danielle von Zerneck), the namesake of one of his biggest hits, is little more than a poodle skirt and a cheery smile, while his doting mother, Connie (Rosanna DeSoto), is the quintessential ultra-supportive parent. Bob is certainly the most fully fleshed out of this trio, but even most of his personal ups and downs are presented as being directly...
Ritchie’s girlfriend, Donna (Danielle von Zerneck), the namesake of one of his biggest hits, is little more than a poodle skirt and a cheery smile, while his doting mother, Connie (Rosanna DeSoto), is the quintessential ultra-supportive parent. Bob is certainly the most fully fleshed out of this trio, but even most of his personal ups and downs are presented as being directly...
- 10/16/2023
- by Derek Smith
- Slant Magazine
In documentary My Name is Lopez, the life and work of the Mexican-American singer, who fought hard to retain his name and identity, is celebrated
In the 1950s and 60s, nearly every singer of Latin descent who pined to become a star in the US or UK had to eradicate any trace of ethnicity from their name. Thus, Richard Valenzuela became Ritchie Valens, Domingo Samudio morphed into Sam the Sham, Baldemar Huerta reimagined himself as Freddy Fender, and Florencia Cardona simply became Vikki Carr. In the most extreme example, a five-man Chicano band led by Rudy Martinez wound up hiding under the anonymous moniker Question Mark and The Mysterians before releasing their garage-rock classic 96 Tears.
Given all that, the choices Trini Lopez made about his moniker back then seem especially principled and brave. “Trini said to the world, ‘This is my heritage. I’m Mexican and there’s no reason...
In the 1950s and 60s, nearly every singer of Latin descent who pined to become a star in the US or UK had to eradicate any trace of ethnicity from their name. Thus, Richard Valenzuela became Ritchie Valens, Domingo Samudio morphed into Sam the Sham, Baldemar Huerta reimagined himself as Freddy Fender, and Florencia Cardona simply became Vikki Carr. In the most extreme example, a five-man Chicano band led by Rudy Martinez wound up hiding under the anonymous moniker Question Mark and The Mysterians before releasing their garage-rock classic 96 Tears.
Given all that, the choices Trini Lopez made about his moniker back then seem especially principled and brave. “Trini said to the world, ‘This is my heritage. I’m Mexican and there’s no reason...
- 4/19/2022
- by Jim Farber
- The Guardian - Film News
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